


How to Woo Yomo Renji in Twenty Years

by orphan_account



Series: some love we all need [1]
Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: (not really they kinda simping for each other), 3+1, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Ghouls (Tokyo Ghoul), Best Friends, Childhood Friends, Dorks in Love, Flowers, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, I Ship It, Language of Flowers, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Meant To Be, Romance, Slow Romance, Teen Romance, The Author Regrets Nothing, Uta Being an Asshole, Uta is Bad at Feelings, but somehow Uta's eyes stay the same, i love them a lot, idk what else to tag, they cute, what's Uta's last name tho?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:20:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25013047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Three times Uta says he's not hitting on him, and one time Yomo is sure he is.
Relationships: Uta/Yomo Renji
Series: some love we all need [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1759543
Comments: 2
Kudos: 51





	How to Woo Yomo Renji in Twenty Years

**Author's Note:**

> Man, my PC crashed halfway through this and I had to write it on my phone which is A STRUGGLE™.
> 
> Anyway have this while I try to write stuff on my darn phone.

  
  


Yomo could vividly remember the first time he had met Uta. 

  


He had succesfully escaped the boring dinner he had been forced to go to, where the grownups kept talking about politics and things like that. He immediately ducked underneath the table once his parents were distracted with a loud argument against their hosts ("It's not an argument, dear!" his mom would say, but Yomo was sure it was one, considering they kept raising their voices at each other.) 

  
  


He slipped through a tiny hole in the garden hedge, and stood up brushing his pants of dirt. He raised his gaze, and saw that he had ended up on a hill that climbed upwards, where a single tree was outlined against the bright sky. He giggled, feeling the wind against his cheeks, inviting him to play.

  
  


He took off, running up the grass, breathing heavily, but he would not be defeated! He started laughing halfway up the hill, the birds chirping along with him. Once he had finally pulled to a stop, he found he was standing under the lone tree, at the very top of the hill. He pumped his fists up, and cheered in victory. Pink petals flew around him, and along the breeze.

  
  


In the distance were hills, and the only sign of humanity was the house where he had come from, now a tiny spot at the bottom of the hill.

  
  


He exhaled heavily, before plopping down on the grass. He threw his head back, letting the shadows paint themselves over him. It had been exhausting, but definitely worth it!  
  
  


He cracked one eye open when he heard a shuffling sound come from behind him. He momentarily froze, but it couldn't have been a bear. He turned around, trying to see what animal it was.

  
  


It was not a wild animal, it turned out. Yomo could see a boy coming up the hill, head pointed towards the swaying grass. He looked seven, about a year older than him.

  
  


He did not say anything, as the other finally reached the top. The boy finally noticed him, and glanced up in surprise. Yomo did a double take.

  
  


The boy in front of him was thin and gangly, and he was wearing a flimsy white tank top, paired with red shorts. The boy's head was a mess of short, spiky blond hair, that made him look slightly like a hedgehog. The boy had a relatively round face, that of a child, with very thin eyebrows, almost nonexistent. His lips were pale, actually, his whole body seemed a bizarre shade of white. His eyes had to be the weirdest thing, though.

  
  


They were round, but where his own were white, the boy's were a deep black. Two red irises stared back at him, almost hypnotizing him.

  
  


The boy looked surprised to see him there, and he stood in front of him for two more moments, only the ruffling of the petals disrupting the silence.

  
  


"Um. Hello." Yomo said awkwardly, not being able to bear the lack of sound any longer.

  
  


That seemed to snap the boy with the weird eyes out of his daze, as he blinked rapidly, before a smile overtook his features. He coughed at the shine of the other's teeth, feeling his cheeks heat up. Maybe he was sick?

  
  


"Oh, hello!" the boy said happily, before practically throwing himself on the grass, near Yomo.

  
  


"I haven't seen you here before! And I would've remembered you considering this is my place and your hair is really pretty, and I come here every night! Did you just move here?" the other rambled, and Yomo did not hear half of the things he had said.

  
  


His six year old brain could not keep up with the rapid words, so what came out of his own mouth was, "Uh...uh?"

  
  


Not his best.

  
  


But the strange boy merely laughed, patting him playfully on the back. He froze. He didn't like others touching him. The hand was quickly removed from his shoulder.

  
  


The boy cleared his throat, before extending a pale hand in front of him.

  
  


"I'm Uta! You wanna be friends?"

  
  


Yomo blinked back, gazing at the outstretched arm. No one had outright asked him to be friends. He usually just spent time with the same people, and over the years they became his friends.

  
  


A silent moment or two passed, and he could see the way the boy's, Uta, cheeks slowly started to redden. He dangled the hand around a little.

  
  


"Come on! I'm not hitting on you, y'know?"

  
  


Yomo did not know what he meant by "hitting on", so he simply nodded, before extending his own hands.

  
  


Their fingers met, and he felt something warm crawl up his arm. He really should check if he had a fever.

  
  


"Yomo, I- Uhm... That's my name." he said.

  
  


Uta laughed a little, before retracting his arm back. Yomo missed it a little, but why, he did not know.

  
  


Those peculiar black and red eyes turned back towards him, and they glinted prettily in the summer sun.

  
  


"Nice to meet you, Yomo-uhm! I can tell we're gonna be great friends!"

  
  


He whacked Uta's head for the nickname, the blonde's laughs echoing across the hills.

  
  


  
  


  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
  


  
  


  
  


Yomo did not know how, but over the years he stayed friends with Uta, ending up at the same junior high. He never did find out what his last name was.

  
  


And on one such day in school, he found himself walking down the hall, towards his locker. He could see a flock of girls and some boys hanging around a corner, where he could see familiar blonde hair.

  
  


He rolled his eyes, feeling something ugly rear its head inside of him.

  
  


Somehow, Uta had become very popular, and by that, he means he was _the_ guy in junior high. The one everyone knew, the one who had fans on his heels everywhere he went, the one girls and guys threw their phone numbers at. No one seemed to mind the peculiar eyes, and Yomo never heard one comment made about them.

  
  


He tried to block out the infuriatingly high-pitched giggles that were grating on his nerves, throwing his locker door open. He refused to let his eyes stray from where they were trained on his hands that were stuffing his history books inside.

He quickly retrieved his math notebook, and closed the locker door. He felt something drill into his side, and he whipped around, ready to give his coldest of glares.

Instead, he met eyes with the red one's of Uta, who was gazing curiously at him, from his spot leaning in the corner. He was tall for a 13 year old boy, not even having to crane his head up to look over the small crowd of his fans.

  
  


A moment or two passed, their gazes still locked. Then Yomo turned around and left, ignoring the rapid thumping of his heart against his chest, the red blooming in his cheeks, and the annoying voices of stupid Uta with his stupid fans.

  
  


He effectively managed to avoid his friend (“ _Best friend_!” would whine Uta when he reffered to him as that), which led to him being a little late to most of his classes, having to take the roundabout way of going to them, which meant hallways on the other side of the school.

He opened the door, feeling his cheeks heat up slightly at the way the whole class turned towards him. He could feel one gaze burning in his side in particular. He muttered a low apology to the teacher, before making his way towards his seat.

  
  


He froze. He didn't want to sit next to Uta. He made Yomo feel all weird inside, and he didn't like it.

That proved to be no problem, though, as he saw out of the corner of his eye a girl slide into his usual seat next to the red-eyed boy. He exhaled in relief and something else, before sitting down in the chair closest to the window. He stole a glance towards his friend, and saw he was turned away from him, speaking quickly with the girl.

He scoffed under his breath, zipping his hoodie up.

  
  


After school ended, he stuffed all his books into his bag, trying to get out of there as fast as he could. He had managed to avoid Uta all day, and he didn't want to stop now.

  
  


His dreams were crushed, though, as he saw a palm slam on top of the locker door to his left.

He glanced at it, and cursed to hell and back, once he saw the familiar black nailpolish that Uta liked to wear.

  
  


He exhaled deeply, slowly pulling the zipper from his backpack up. Maybe he could make a run for it. But if he did, then that probably made them officially not friends anymore. And he didn't want that.

He just wanted a few days to gather his thoughts, and find out what was so weird about Uta. It's not like it was a crush, obviously. He had liked people before, and it hadn't been like what his friend made him feel like.

  
  


He softly shut his locker door, pointedly keeping his eyes on his beaten up old sneakers. He raised his right leg, still not decided if he should leave.

  
  


A voice interrupted him.

  
  


“Why are you avoiding me?”

  
  


Yomo closed his eyes, inhaling sharply. Uta did not sound hurt, more accusatory.

He took a a step to the right, putting some distance between them, and to be able to see his friend. Uta stood there, his left hand still on the lockers, his right one in his pocket. As usual, he was dressed all in black, his hoodie left unzipped. Yomo saw his dark headband through the wild mane of spiky hair. He let his gaze linger on the lip rings the boy had, before looking at a trash can in the distance.

  
  


“I'm not.” he said, in his usual serious tone of voice.

  
  


“Bullshit!” Uta exploded, his whole body turning towards Yomo. He felt a little intimidated, and he took a very discreet step back, wondering if the rapid _thrum_ of his heart against his chest was telling him he was scared.

  
  


“We're in school,” he hissed lowly, watching the group of fans rapidly approaching in the distance, “Keep your voice down, and stop fucking cursing.”

  
  


He avoided the other's amused smile, before clearing his throat and gripping his backpack tighter.

  
  


“You're wanted.” he said, and the girls had perfect timing.

  
  


Uta was swarmed by a crowd, and Yomo could see the way his peculiar eyes widened in surprise. He ducked his head low, and made for the school's exit.

  
  


In the evening he had a special place where he liked spending time, away from all the hustle and bustle of the town. It was an orchard owned by an old guy who never stopped by. He threw his backpack over the chain-link fence, before climbing up it himself.

  
  


Once at the top, he let himself fall, his knees buckling under his weight a little. He took of his hoodie, setting it on the grass, before sitting on it. He unzipped his bag, wondering if he could do some reading before the sun set.

  
  


He heard footsteps in front of him, and he quickly glanced up, wondering if the old man finally showed up.

  
  


It was _not_ , in fact, the orchard's owner. Uta was lazily walking towards him, between the trees. (Yomo wondered how he got in. He only knew of the fence.) His steps were long and casual, and he was throwing an apple up with his right hand.

Those eyes were not on him, instead looking in the distance.

He stood up, almost tripping over his own legs. He awkwardly stood there, watching his friend approach leisurely. Once the boy was about two meters away from him, he stopped, catching the apple in his left hand.

“Uh.” he said intelligently, “How are you here?”

  
  


And by that, he meant how did he know about this orchard. This was his secret place.

Those eyes snapped towards him, and he suddenly felt too tall, but at the same time too small.

“You forgot,” Uta started, in his usual voice, all collected and relaxed, “That before you started avoiding me like I'm the plague I was your best friend.”

  
  


He took a step towards Yomo, and threw a hand around his shoulders as he had done all those years ago on top of the grassy hill, under the shade of a cherry tree. He stiffened up, his arms hanging at his sides limply.

“And obviously I still am.” he heard the relaxed voice come from his left, and he hated how his heart did a weird thing.

  
  


“What?” he said confusedly. He was still the plague?  
  
  


Uta chuckled from his left, and leaned back on the fence, arm still around his shoulders.

  
  


“Your best friend you dumbass.”

He rolled his eyes, and felt his face slowly start to heat up. Uta, ever the asshole, started laughing loudly, head thrown back and all. He was pulled closer, their sides brushing against each other.

”Calm down, it’s not like I’m hitting on you, or anything.” Uta murmured.

He scoffed bemusedly. Yomo knew that Uta knew that he was flustered because of the close proximity. He reddened up whenever literally _anyone_ touched him. 

He whacked his friend on the head, which caused the other to start laughing like the idiot he was.

He found himself smiling too, their weird one-sided argument disappearing.

~~~~~~~~~~

Uta kept his popular boy status all throughout junior high, and it came to no surprise that the literal moment he walked through the high school gates, a flock of girls had appeared out of thin air.

No one seemed to be the least disturbed by Yomo’s cold glare that practically radiated ‘ _leave-me-alone_ ’. He slipped away every time the Uta Fan Club appeared, but on some days he wasn’t so lucky, and his best friend noticed him subtly backing away. Then, a hand with familiar black nail polish would snake around his shoulders, effectively keeping him at Uta’s side, with no chance of escaping. That was the worst, as he had to sit through annoying giggles and his friend’s lame flirting.

Throughout his freshman year, he managed to somehow stay under the radar, having gotten rid of all the possible gossip material on the fourth day, when a girl came bounding down the stairs, ponytail swaying precariously behind her, and wagged an accusing finger in his face, asking him if he was Uta’s boyfriend.

Which led him to visibly gag, at which the girl recoiled back slightly, as if burned.

”No, we’re not together. I’m just his best friend.” he had replied, watching the girl relax, before leaving, a spring in her step.

Then someone practically threw themselves on him, and Yomo heard Uta wail dramatically, “So quick to deny! You truly wound me, Mr. Crow!”

He pushed his best friend off, ignoring the way the boy still kept leaning on him, as an exaggerated damsel in distress would.

Now, people approached him trying to get him to introduce them to Uta. Which was ridiculous, considering his best friend was the most open person he knew, and it would have been way easier to just go talking to him directly. But he wasn’t disturbed again, after he had glared viciously at a boy who wanted him to transmit some kind of love letter. (He was in a bad mood that day, his cat had decided it would be a good idea to poop in his shoes.)

So freshman year went by in a breeze, nothing worth mentioning having happened. 

Then sophomore year came around, and with it Uta got three more piercings in his right ear, and tried out for the football team. To Yomo’s (but not anyone else’s) surprise, he made the team, and apparently he wasn’t half bad at playing either.

And by that, he meant he had heard two girls talking loudly about the way Uta ran and scored goals made them want to have his babies. He had quickly backed away from that hallway at that.

He befriended some boys from the drama club he had joined (he wasn’t sure if he liked Tsukiyama Shuu or not), and avoided Uta for two weeks, after he had embarrassingly shouted at a fangirl that had approached him with the usual request of talking to his red-eyed friend. He didn’t even know what had come over him, but something about the way the girl’s hand was shyly pulling at her skirt, or the red blooming in her cheeks, made him weirdly angry and uncomfortable.

Then, on one Friday, as Yomo was packing his bags and wondering what his mother had prepared for dinner, he heard loud footsteps towards him. He sighed, already knowing it was Uta.

He turned around, ready to deal with whatever dumb request the boy could possibly have. 

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight that met his eyes. 

Uta was running down the empty hallway, straight towards him, clutching something in his right hand. His spiky, blonde hair was pulled back by the headband, tied in a teensy tiny little ponytail at the nape of his neck. He was wearing some kind of jersey or shirt (Yomo didn’t know what it was called, he wasn’t interested in sports at all.), with a large T on it.

His friend pulled to a stop in front of him, not looking winded by the jog at all. 

“Hey?” Yomo greeted, looking at anything other than Uta’s shoulders, which seemed to catch his attention for whatever unknown reason, “Don’t you have a practice match with another school right now?”

He saw his friend smile, before replying, “Aw, you remembered! And don’t try to fool me,” he quickly said, once he saw Yomo open his mouth to intervene, “I know you don’t like football all that much~!”

He scoffed at him, before asking him what he wanted. 

“Oh yeah!”, Uta snapped his fingers as if he had only then remembered the reason he was late for practice for, “The cheerleaders are short one member, ‘cuz Billy called in sick.”

Yomo didn’t know who this ‘Billy’ was, and frankly he didn’t care. He still didn’t see what this had to do with him. 

“So... I was wondering if you could fill in for him,” and seeing Yomo’s face, he quickly added, “Just this practice! Come on, please!”

Yomo flashed him his best of glares, but he could feel his resolve weakening.

”But I can’t even dance, surely you could pick some other person more suitable than me.” he tried.

”Come on, you just gotta shimmy your stuff up there, it can’t be that hard! Pleeeease!” he whined, and Yomo wondered why everyone liked him.

Not even ten minutes later he found himself standing in the middle of a horde of cheerleaders, holding ridiculous pom poms in his hands, and trying to keep his head down.

Why, oh why, did he agree to this?

Probably because Uta was his friend and he’d do anything for that idiot.

But why did it have to be this?

He felt his whole face redden as the players took their position, not-so-subtly checking the cheerleaders out.

He could see Uta’s distinctive eyes searching his group, and he prayed the tall girl with a huge chest in front of him was hiding him from view.

No such luck, as he met eyes with his asshole of a best friend whose blinding smile he could see all the way from where he was. He could feel the people in his group swoon.

That practice game their school won, Uta scoring the most points.

After that whole embarrassing scenario, as Yomo was packing his things up, back in his beloved grey hoodie that he’ll never part with again, he saw a blonde girl heading towards him.

He mentally prepared himself for one of the fangirls, before turning around to face her.

Now he saw that she was very pretty. Her long, straight hair was pulled back in a ponytail at the nape of her neck, and she was still in the flimsy cheerleading uniform. 

She was approaching him determinedly, and when she stopped in front of him, he saw her beautiful brown eyes were alight with something fiery in them. (He couldn’t help but compare them to black and red ones)

His heart pounded loudly against his skin.

  
  


Not even five minutes later, he found himself stumbling dazedly out of the locker room, having just been asked out for the first time in his entire life. And by a very pretty girl nonetheless.

Finally! Someone wasn’t interested in Uta, but rather him!

He didn’t even know what to think!

Three months passed, and him and Sahera (the girl) were steadily dating. And then one evening, she entered his classroom, one hand clasped around her backpack strap. 

She stood in front of his desk, where he and Uta were talking about who knows what. She didn’t interrupt them, merely awaited for them to be done. Yomo liked that about her.

”Hey babe.” she smiled once they finally stopped talking, and placed a dainty kiss on his cheek.

He found himself blushing, because any human touching him brought out that reaction in him.

”Hey.” he replied, feeling a weird sort of atmosphere come from Uta. He avoided his best friend’s gaze, instead zipping up his backpack. It wasn’t like he and Sahera had set out for their relationship to remain a secret, it just sort of happened. 

“Thanks for waiting for me.”

She nodded and they left, not before Yomo bid goodbye to Uta, who was frozen and staring at his desk.

Their date went on pleasantly during the night, but it felt more like a night’s out with a friend, rather than a romantic interest. He brushed it off.

The next day, he had just taken a step into the high school building, when his upper arm was grasped tightly, and he was pulled towards his locker.

He ripped his arm out of the other’s grip, and turned to see Uta staring at him with unreadable eyes.

”You didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend.” his friend said, and it was scary how he didn’t seem accusatory at all, more like he was just stating facts.

”Well, we aren’t really together, per say, we’ve just gone out for a date or two.” he replied, not knowing why he was suddenly feeling sheepish. 

Uta nodded, almost in understanding, then flashed him a smile that had the hair on his arm raising. 

“Okay.” his friend said, then pointedly left.

Yomo was left furrowing his brows, wondering if he had really hurt his best friend so much by not telling him that.

The next time he had seen Sahera, he had raised his hand to greet her, but a hand suddenly snaked around his waist, and he was pulled in a side hug by Uta. He looked at the other questioningly, but was met with a tight-lipped smile, that seemed icier than his usual ones.

This bizarre behavior continued for two more weeks, his best friend appearing out of the blue whenever he even caught a glimpse of Sahera’s blonde hair. And when they did manage to talk, almost immediately Uta would appear, and flash a venomous smile, that was too sweet to be genuinely nice.

Yomo had no idea what was going on.

Then one night, Sahera called him. The break-up was mutual, Yomo feeling like they were better off as friends, and Sahera mumbling about how scary a jealous Uta could get. They agreed to remain friends, and Yomo could not find it in himself to be particularly sad.

After all, it had been a good time and they would still be going out, just not as romantic partners.

And as if by magic, the next day, on Saturday, at seven pm, the doorbell rang. He bounded down the stairs, shouting at his mom that he’d get it. And he opened his door, dinosaur pajama pants and all.

He actually took a step back at the sight that met him. 

It was Uta (no surprise there), but he was actually dressed fancily. He was wearing a white button up with a black tie around his neck. His hair was pulled back in a tidy ponytail, and his black shoes shone nicely in the entrance lights.

And he was holding a _bouquet_. 

Yes, a whole arm of roses stared back at Yomo. He could see the way Uta’s face matched the roses color almost perfectly. 

“Uh...” he started, because his words just had a habit of leaving him whenever he was speaking with his best friend.

”For you.” Uta replied, before practically pushing the flowers in his face.

He could hear his mother asking him what was taking so long, and who was at the door.

His brain short circuited, and he was left staring at the flowers dumbfounded. 

“I...Uh?”

”I’m not hitting on you!” his best friend said, voice louder than normal. He wasn’t looking at Yomo.

He thought this was exactly what hitting on meant.

”But...” his friend continued, cheeks painted a pretty crimson. “Would you go out with me? Like, on a date?” 

He gaped.

There was no other way to put it.

But, he somehow managed to move his limbs up to his room, where he changed into something nicer, before informing his mother where he was going (At which she squealed, saying it was about time. Whatever that meant.)

And when the night was over, he found himself missing the date, and wondering if this had been a one time thing. He couldn’t deny that he felt something for his Uta. It wasn’t like what it had been with Sahera, or any other crush, really. No one had made his heart beat this violently, or his pulse run marathons along his skin, or his hands fidgeting with whatever they could grasp, or him feeling suddenly too hot but too cold.

Really, they hadn’t.

That shouldn’t have been a worry, as he and Uta continued going on dates, and their touches suddenly felt as something more than what friends would do. Looking back, they had never been that innocent at all. 

And through hushed whispers against flushed skin, Uta confessed to have had a crush on him since they had met on that hill all those years ago. Yomo did not know what to think, and he couldn’t as his thoughts were stolen away by kisses on his neck, and flutters of red eyes. 

~~~~~~~~~~

And so the years passed, nights spent lovingly gazing at each other, mornings met with lingering kisses and groans. Though it had never been made official, Yomo thought this was what it meant to be together. 

One summer night found the long-haired man brewing a cup of tea, wondering where Uta was. His job at a tattoo parlor should have ended about two hours ago, but who knew what idiotic things he was getting up to. 

Yomo smiled fondly.

His train of thoughts was abruptly ended as the doorbell rang, the sound echoing across the silent house.

He placed his cup on the coffee table, then slowly headed towards the door, scratching at his dinosaur pants that had lasted for a long, _long_ time.

The doorbell rang again, this time accompanied by rapid knocking, at which he rolled his eyes. So it was his boyfriend.

”I’m coming, hold your horses!” he called, then the knocking came again, this time even more urgent.

He closed his eyes, then opened the door, parting his lips to tell Uta exactly what he thought about his impatient knocking. (Obviously it wasn’t cute. Obviously) 

And in front of him stood the dark-haired man, (he had dyed it black during his senior year) dressed in a full-on _suit_. Not even when he had asked him out had he been dressed this fancy!

And he was fidgeting, holding something behind his back. His red eyes were fixed on Yomo, and, as always, they stole his breath away.

He leaned casually on the doorframe, arms crossed. 

“So, what did you get up to again?” he said, feeling a smile pull at his lips.

And a determination so fiery overtook the other’s features, that he was left momentarily stunned. What was going on?

The man took a step towards him, and onto their porch. He pulled his left hand from behind his back, and in it was a black, satin box, that matched his eyes quite prettily. He felt his eyebrows furrow.

Surely, not...?

But Uta’s gaze was unwavering, his back straight, head pulled back.

He dropped down to one knee. Yomo gasped slightly.

”Yomo Renji, you’ve put up with me for twenty years. Would you do it for the rest of your life too?” 

And Yomo didn’t know how to respond. _Him_?? Uta wanted _him_??

”And,” the man in front of him added, “I’m definitely not hitting on you.”

Yomo fisted his shirt up and kissed him in all of his dumb, idiotic glory that he somehow fell in love with. 

He never did find out what what Uta’s last name was.


End file.
